February 19, 2012

Beatniks: Gone but Not Forgotten

"Peter Gunn visits his pal Wilbur the Beatnik who spouts some way out hipster-talk about art and women. A cool Jazz combo with flute grooves in the background while the audience snaps their fingers in approval. All the Beatnik stereotypes rolled into one scene! The episode is "Image of Sally" from season one of Peter Gunn, 1958. Dig it."

Posted by gerardvanderleun at February 19, 2012 9:31 AM
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"It is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood." -- Karl Popper N.B.: Comments are moderated and may not appear immediately. Comments that exceed the obscenity or stupidity limits will be either edited or expunged.

Grrooovy, baby.

The flute music is tame for jazz, but the sculpture is far out! All ears, baby.

Peter Gunn was great "film noir," except maybe I should say "TV noir."

Posted by: Casey Klahn at February 19, 2012 10:16 AM

Hipsters, flipsters, and finger-poppin' daddies,
Knock me your lobes,
I came to lay Caesar out,
Not to hip you to him.
The bad jazz that a cat blows,
Wails long after he's cut out.
The groovey is often stashed with their frames,
So don't put Caesar down.
The swinging Brutus hath laid a story on you
That Caesar was hungry for power If it were so, it was a sad drag,
And sadly hath the Caesar cat answered it.
Here with a pass from Brutus and the other brass,
For Brutus is a worthy stud,
Yea, so are they all worthy studs,
Though their stallions never sleep.
I came to wail at Ceasar's wake.
He was my buddy, and he leveled with me.
Yet Brutus digs that he has eyes for power,
And Brutus is a solid cat.
It is true he hath returned with many freaks in chains
And brought them home to Rome.
Yea, the looty was booty
And hipped the treasury well.
Dost thou dig that this was Caesar's groove
For the putsch?
When the cats with the empty kicks hath copped out,
Yea, Caesar hath copped out, too,
And cried up a storm.
To be a world grabber a stiffer riff must be blown.
Without bread a stud can't even rule an anthill.
Yet Brutus was swinging for the moon.
And, yea, Brutus is a worthy stud.
And all you cats were gassed on the Lupercal
When he came on like a king freak.
Three times I lay the wig on him,
And thrice did he put it down.
Was this the move of a greedy hipster?
Yet, Brutus said he dug the lick,
And, yes, a hipper cat has never blown.
Some claim that Brutus' story was a gag.
But I dug the story was solid.
I came here to blow.
Now, stay cool while I blow.
You all dug him once
Because you were hipped that he was solid
How can you now come on so square
Now that he's tapped out of this world.
City Hall is flipped
And swung to a drunken zoo
And all of you cats are goofed to wig city.
Dig me hard.
My ticker is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And, yea, I must stay cool til it flippeth back to me.

From Lord Buckley In Concert, Demon Verbals

Posted by: Jewel at February 19, 2012 10:18 AM

Hipsters, flipsters, and finger-poppin' daddies,
Knock me your lobes,
I came to lay Caesar out,
Not to hip you to him.
The bad jazz that a cat blows,
Wails long after he's cut out.
The groovey is often stashed with their frames,
So don't put Caesar down.
The swinging Brutus hath laid a story on you
That Caesar was hungry for power If it were so, it was a sad drag,
And sadly hath the Caesar cat answered it.
Here with a pass from Brutus and the other brass,
For Brutus is a worthy stud,
Yea, so are they all worthy studs,
Though their stallions never sleep.
I came to wail at Ceasar's wake.
He was my buddy, and he leveled with me.
Yet Brutus digs that he has eyes for power,
And Brutus is a solid cat.
It is true he hath returned with many freaks in chains
And brought them home to Rome.
Yea, the looty was booty
And hipped the treasury well.
Dost thou dig that this was Caesar's groove
For the putsch?
When the cats with the empty kicks hath copped out,
Yea, Caesar hath copped out, too,
And cried up a storm.
To be a world grabber a stiffer riff must be blown.
Without bread a stud can't even rule an anthill.
Yet Brutus was swinging for the moon.
And, yea, Brutus is a worthy stud.
And all you cats were gassed on the Lupercal
When he came on like a king freak.
Three times I lay the wig on him,
And thrice did he put it down.
Was this the move of a greedy hipster?
Yet, Brutus said he dug the lick,
And, yes, a hipper cat has never blown.
Some claim that Brutus' story was a gag.
But I dug the story was solid.
I came here to blow.
Now, stay cool while I blow.
You all dug him once
Because you were hipped that he was solid
How can you now come on so square
Now that he's tapped out of this world.
City Hall is flipped
And swung to a drunken zoo
And all of you cats are goofed to wig city.
Dig me hard.
My ticker is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And, yea, I must stay cool til it flippeth back to me.

From Lord Buckley In Concert, Demon Verbals

Posted by: Jewel at February 19, 2012 10:19 AM

Crazy Daddy-O! You've got the offbeat Asian student with overthick glasses, you've got the swinging decadent blond who probably sleeps with Negroes, you've got the dude who snaps his fingers in time supported by the length of his forearm (I confess I've been that particular hipster dunderhead stereotype on occassion at Jazz Alley) - GVDL, you are way hip and un-square, baby...

Posted by: Dex Quire at February 19, 2012 11:22 AM

I just noticed after all these years how much Craig Stevens was a Cary Grant clone....

Posted by: Rob De Witt at February 19, 2012 11:36 AM

I recognized Wilbur!

Posted by: Sam L. at February 19, 2012 2:06 PM

Ya, Cary Grant.

And the director didn't know to tell all those actors and extras that hipsters and negroes snap two and four, not one and three. That is totally square.

Posted by: james wilson at February 19, 2012 3:29 PM

Wait a minute! Is that Mary Ann?

Posted by: tao9 at February 19, 2012 9:52 PM